Caetano Veloso: ‘Right now concern predominates within me; Brazil seems unable to save itself’

Caetano Veloso, in a video call from Lisbon, Portugal, speaks slowly with that blend of intellectual clarity and Bahian melancholy that for six decades has turned each of his interviews into something more like a philosophical conversation than a mere promotion of new albums or concerts. At age 83, the celebrated musician from Brazil is embarking on a tour titled Caetano nos festivais, which will stop in Madrid on June 4 and which he himself describes, without drama but with honesty, as perhaps his last visit to Spain. That is despite the close relationship he has always maintained with Spanish culture. There is no monumental nostalgia in his words; rather a physical weariness, a wise resignation, political concern and a bitter — though not yet defeated — view of the present. He speaks, without losing passion, about the military dictatorship his country suffered, about Silicon Valley, The Beatles, contemporary confusion and a Brazil that, in spite of everything, he still believes can “say something to the world.”

Question. How are you approaching this tour? Has your relationship with your voice and the stage changed much over the years?

Answer. I’m old [laughs], so I arrived in Lisbon and stayed here a few days before singing in Porto, then came back here and will later go on to Madrid. I think that will make it possible. Earlier I used to arrive in places and go out to chat, eat, walk… This time I’m not moving around as much, wanting to feel more rested.

Q. Many people think these could be your last concerts in Spain. You yourself hinted at that in a video on Instagram.

A. I don’t think of it exactly that way, but I do think it’s not easy to imagine taking long trips at this stage of life. When I return to Brazil, I may no longer want to travel to distant places. Although you never know. Roberto Menescal [a bossa nova musician], who is 88, used to say he would never go back to Japan because it’s very far…and now he might go again. As far as I’m concerned, it’s not clear-cut.

Q. Does that change how you plan a concert? A performance that might be “the last” is not the same as just another show.

A. This concert basically reflects what I’ve been doing in Brazil lately. But the song selection is very current because they are strong songs that confront the world’s absurdities. They come from various periods of my life, yes, but now they sound different because the world seems very crazy.

Q. Some veteran artists end up turned into monuments. You, by contrast, keep arguing with the present. Does nostalgia bother you?

A. No, but I feel aware of what’s happening. I see the complexity and difficulty of international and national issues. That even influences my choice of songs.

Q. The late-1960s art movement known as Tropicália advocated absorbing foreign culture rather than protecting against it. Does that idea still hold in the digital era?

A. The world has changed a great deal. Those ideas were healthy for Brazil for many years. But today, with the digital world and technological changes, the question is different. Many new people constantly appear on social networks and it’s very hard to know who is truly special. The very idea of a “cultural star” belongs more to the past. We wanted to acknowledge that Brazil was part of the world and absorb influences without submitting to them. That remains important to me, although now everything happens far more quickly and confusingly.

Q. That movement drew heavily on Anglo culture, especially The Beatles.

A. The Beatles were a hugely interesting phenomenon in the history of song and of the world. We wanted to acknowledge their creative force without putting ourselves beneath them. To understand that they were part of the world we lived in, while continuing to make Brazilian music. We admired the creative freedom they showed and the way they constantly expanded their artistic possibilities, but the intention was never to imitate them, rather to dialogue with that energy from within our own tradition.

Q. You always fought cultural purism.

A. Because it cannot be true, especially in colonial countries like ours. In the Americas there is no cultural purity. We wanted more creative energy and therefore did not accept a closed defense of tradition. Later we discovered the ideas of Oswald de Andrade [a poet and essayist] and the notion of “cultural anthropophagy”: devouring influences from the dominant world to transform them into something of our own. That complex vision of culture still seems valid to me.

Q. The song Alegría, alegría seemed in 1968 to announce a modern, open Brazil. What do you feel when you look at Brazil today?

A. It was already an ironic song then. We were under the military dictatorship. There was everyday pleasure in the song, yes, but also a bitter outlook. That irony still exists today. I made an album a few years ago, Meu coco [2021], which contains very critical songs about the digital world and Silicon Valley. A bitter, though complex, view.

Q. You suffered jail and exile during the dictatorship. Are you worried about the return of certain authoritarian nostalgias?

A. Yes. There are people who publicly say they would like the military dictatorship to return. And they say it quite casually. To me, that is unbearable. Prison, confinement and exile were very painful experiences. We were imprisoned for two months, then confined for several months in Salvador and afterwards exiled for more than two years. That even changed the way I face the world.

Q. For years you were criticized both by conservatives and by some sectors of the left. Did that make you feel freer?

A. Criticism from the left made us suffer, of course, but it was part of the cultural debate. It made me feel freer, certainly. What was painful was the attitude of the military: the prison, the confinement, the exile. That even changed my courage.

Q. There is always beauty in your work, even when you speak of painful matters. Is aesthetics still a form of resistance?

A. Yes, without a doubt. You have to be like that.

Q. You defended aesthetic and sexual ambiguity long before it became commonplace. Is there more real freedom today or simply more exposure?

A. Now it seems there is more exposure than anything else. When I wrote Tropical Truth: A Story of Music and Revolution in Brazil. [an autobiography from 1997] I said the left needed to pay more attention to racial, sexual and behavioral issues. But today it seems to me there is an excess of racialization, sexualization and emphasis on gender issues. That creates a lot of confusion.

Q. Does writing songs still move you?

A. Yes, I feel the desire. But the capacity seems reduced by old age. Still, I continue to do it.

Q. What have you retained from the young Bahian who arrived in São Paulo in the 1960s?

A. I keep reaffirming the interesting things that young man began to do. But now I better understand what it means to be old and to see how the world changes.

Q. When you think about Brazil’s future, does optimism or concern predominate?

A. Right now concern predominates in me; sometimes a kind of disenchantment. I try to avoid an overly dreamy view of reality. Brazilian popular music still represents one of the country’s great cultural forces, but today things are so ugly… Brazil seems unable to save itself. But at the same time I still get the feeling that it can say something important to the world, bring a different presence, another sensibility. That feeling has not died within me.

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